


Latent Content

by zinke



Series: What We Didn't See [8]
Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Gen, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-02
Updated: 2007-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-17 06:24:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9309389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zinke/pseuds/zinke
Summary: The only question remaining unanswered between them was 'when'.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I know. I missed the anniversary. Just consider this to be my ‘fashionably late’ arrival to the party. What I truly loved about this episode (besides the kissing, of course) was the simple fact that neither Josh nor Donna needed to have spoken a word between them in order to get this gist of what each was thinking and feeling throughout the episode. Let’s face it; Brad and Janel kicked some thespian ass. You could almost hear what the characters were thinking—hence the inspiration for this piece. 
> 
> Many, many thanks to caz963 for the advice, the suggestions and for the big slap upside the head early on; it was sorely needed and greatly appreciated.

* * * *

la-tent [leyt-nt] adj. 1. present but not visible, apparent or actualized; existing as potential 2. existing in unconscious or dormant form but potentially able to achieve expression.

* * * * 

Working the final button loose from its hole, Josh rolled his neck in a stiff circle as he shrugged his shirt loose from his shoulders and trudged into the bathroom. Flicking on the light, he winced at the picture he presented in the mirror; if he looked this wrecked now, he hated to consider what he must look like on a morning that brought bad news. 

Shucking his boxers and leaving them where they lay, Josh stepped carefully into the tub, pulling the curtain shut behind him. Now that the people and the euphoria had left him in relative peace, his mind was belatedly beginning to process the sheer magnitude of the task set for him in the coming days. Bram has to completely revise the schedule; we’ve got to get the Congressman out to California as soon as possible. Annabeth needs to get in touch with Joey; we need new language for the stump by the end of the day. And Lou needs to get surrogates placed across the country in time for the evening news…

Reaching out, he started the flow of water with a flick of his wrist, then yelped in surprise as he was pelted from above by an icy torrent. Edging his way around the edge of the tub, he adjusted the hot water flow carefully before stepping away from the chilly tile and ducking his head under the spray. This morning changes everything. Josh paused momentarily as he realized just how true those words were. Raising his hand, he drew the pads of his fingers across his lower lip, momentarily lost in a memory of pure, blissful sensation. 

The first had been nothing more than pure impulse. But the second...he couldn’t articulate even to himself what had driven him to kiss her that second time. But he had, she’d responded, and it had been utterly amazing. But now I have no fucking idea what to do next. The timing couldn’t have been worse; even now, persistent thoughts of the campaign and the work ahead of him were tainting the memory of her lips sliding against his, her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. 

Bracing one hand against the tile, he dropped his head and allowed the water to beat down on the tension-weary muscles of his neck. The reality was that he knew all too well what it was he had to do next: take the golden opportunity that had been handed to him and win this election for Matt Santos and the Democratic Party. Politics he understood; it was a familiar, long-time companion over which he felt he could exert control. Two things I can say are absolutely not the case when it comes to Donnatella Moss. 

And right now, he only had the time and the energy to focus on the things he could control. The rest would have to wait.

* * * *

Slamming the car door shut with a satisfying bang, Josh turned in his seat, a half-formed thought about polling dying on his lips as his eyes caught sight not of Annabeth sitting next to him as he’d expected, but the other blonde on his campaign staff. 

Donna didn’t notice him right away, which was a mercy because it gave him the few precious seconds he needed to haul his jaw up out of his lap and force his stomach back down where it belonged. Efforts which became utterly futile the minute she turned and met his eyes, her face falling into what he presumed to be a reasonable facsimile of his expression only moments earlier. 

Oh God... “Hi,” he said weakly, forcing the sound around the uncomfortable lump lodged in his throat. He should have felt reassured that her reciprocal greeting was offered in a similarly breathy and unsteady voice; instead, he felt his anxiety rise as for the first time he considered the possibility that he’d made a more fundamental mistake than simply allowing himself to become distracted. Swallowing thickly, he gave her what he knew to be a wholly unconvincing smile before turning again to watch the blur of the passing scenery. I’ve ruined us. Again. 

He’d taken liberties with her feelings when she’d worked for him, and she’d left. Now he’d done it again, and his chest tightened painfully as, against his will, his mind began to catalog the potential implications. He couldn’t stand to entertain even the possibility that she’d leave him again, that her resentment, which he’d worked so hard to dispel would come back with a vengeance because of a moment of joyful, heartfelt impetuosity. He just wished he knew what it was she wanted him to do, but a glance at her profile from the corner of his eye did little to inform him. She wasn’t giving him any clues, and even if she were, he wasn’t exactly skilled when it came to interpreting these things.

What he needed was information. 

* * * *

Bound to happen sometime? What the hell? Blinking stupidly, Josh watched her make her way confidently across the lawn, looking beautifully poised and self-assured. He wished he could say the same for himself. When he’d initially set off on this little fishing expedition, he hadn’t been sure what exactly it was he’d been hoping to hear. He could now say with absolute certainty that it had not been that. 

Somewhere about halfway through his sorry excuse for an apology he’d realized that he wanted her to see right through it. He’d wanted her to yell, scream, kiss him senseless, whatever it took to convince him that she’d felt the same as he had this morning and that it was okay to finally let go and do something about it. He’d wanted to force her to take the initiative so that he wouldn’t have to. 

Instead, she’d barely batted an eye at his apology—an apology it took much more effort to force from his lips than he’d anticipated—and left him standing here, stunned and unexpectedly bereft. Apparently, going back wasn’t going to be so much of a problem for Donna, but for him... The can is open, the worms have escaped and they are damn well everywhere. 

And now his goddamn phone was ringing. “Josh Lyman…Hey, Margaret....” 

* * * *

Donna fought to hide her confusion as she stood back and watched Josh’s rapidly escalating antics. She couldn’t shake the feeling that, despite his impromptu speech about impropriety only minutes ago, he’d been about to kiss her again. And this time he’d seemed ready to do it in full view of the staff, the public, and about fifteen local news outlets. But he hadn’t; instead he’d made an abrupt change of course and manhandled poor, unsuspecting Bram instead. 

She felt ridiculously lonely watching what would under different circumstances have been quite an amusing display—a far cry from the wave of pure joy she’d been riding ever since this morning. The past few months with the campaign had been such a relentless struggle for her professionally—for support, understanding, recognition, respect. And, Donna admitted reluctantly to herself, it had been an uphill battle for her personally as well. 

And by ‘personally’ she was, of course referring primarily to her relationship with Josh because no matter how vehemently she might deny it, his opinion was still the one she valued most highly. Because of who he was in the Party, yes, and because it had been he who had handed her his campaign badge in Nashua and opened the door for her. But more importantly, because he was Josh, the man she’d loved for the better part of a decade. 

And at the very moment she’d allowed herself to hope that those days of frustrated uncertainty were over, he’d gone and apologized for the single most breathtaking kiss she’d ever experienced. 

She’d been able to play it off as she always had, with a feigned smile and an empty reassurance, but underneath her carefully guarded exterior she’d been both stunned and hurt. Something which, mercifully, she wasn’t going to be able to dwell on for very long; today’s schedule had been hectic even before the morning’s news, and would only grow more frantic as the day continued. 

Kind of like Josh, actually. Watching as he scooped Annabeth into the air and bounced her enthusiastically, Donna felt her melancholy drift into the background as she fought to hide her growing amusement at Josh’s behavior. The absolute last thing they needed right now was for the press to notice Congressman Santos’ campaign manager tossing around one of the campaign’s chief aides like a bean bag. 

* * * *

At Will’s question, Donna momentarily cast her eyes in the direction of the operations bullpen as she followed his ambling course to his office. “Oh. Not a lot of nostalgia there, really.” 

She wasn’t lying; after all, who needed to be reminded of the past when you were busy reliving the very circumstances that made you want to forget it in the first place? Every chance she’d wasted, every snarky comment she’d forgiven, each heated look she’d dismissed, or intimate touch she’d ignored; they’d all been relentlessly banging around inside her head during the lonely two-thousand mile flight to Washington. The last thing she wanted to do right now was revisit the scene of those crimes and make things worse. 

Yet even with the distracting noise of the past cluttering her thoughts, there had been something else niggling at the back of her mind that wouldn't quite leave her be. It was an uncomfortable feeling that brought a flare of heat to her previously pale cheeks that had nothing to do with attraction or desire, and everything to do with these memories of Josh that had been haunting her all day long. Damnit, Joshua... 

She wasn’t supposed to be susceptible to his influence anymore; she was a stronger, more self-assured, independent woman. And yet with nothing more than a kiss—But what a kiss!—and a fumbled apology he’d turned her world on its head, just as he’d always been able to, and she hadn’t a clue how to right it. ‘Terrible’…‘inappropriate’…He’d barely been able to get the words past his lips, he was so…Wait. 

Donna’s pace slowed as they reached Will’s office, her jumbled thoughts suddenly crystallizing into one simple, infuriating possibility. “Can I ask you a question?”

* * * *

“We had an odd moment today. Just another in a long series of odd moments meant to be ignored.” Because that's what we always do. And usually what everyone else does, too. Only today, for whatever reason, no one—including herself—seemed to be following the rules. First Will, and now CJ calling attention to the very thing she had been so carefully trying to conceal for years. But to what end? She’d apparently been fooling no one, except for maybe the one man she’d actually wanted to see through her carefully crafted façade. 

There had been reasons why she’d practiced such restraint and repression while answering his phones and watching his doorway from amongst the chaos of the bullpen. Quite a long list of them in fact; all of them practical, well-reasoned and incontrovertible. Many of which eventually drove her to leave him last December. And, she admitted to herself—not for the first time—it was in fact him she’d left, more so than the White House. He’d held her back, yes, but the critical point was that she’d allowed him to do so time and time again. And here I am, letting him do it again. 

She’d listened to his awkward, halting excuses this morning, and at the time she’d been so busy reeling from the apparent rejection that she hadn’t truly been able to process them. And now that she had, she was furious—at him, yes, but more so at herself. She should have known better than to have taken his words at face value. But she had, and because of it she’d allowed him to leave her feeling confused and uncertain. Again. It simply wasn’t fair. 

Josh, always the consummate politician, knew damn well what he had said, and didn’t mean a single fucking word of it. He’d kissed her this morning, and a more intuitive man would have picked up on the fact that she had been a more than enthusiastic participant. But Josh was anything but perceptive about these sorts of things, so rather than risk showing his hand, he’d tried to force her to reveal hers instead. Insufferable jackass. She’d had enough of these interminable games. It was time to call his bluff. 

The echoing sound of many footfalls interrupted her reverie, and looking up, she spotted Congressman Santos and the others breezing through the lobby entrance, Josh leading the way. “Hey, are Vinick’s people here yet?”

* * * *

Josh sat, momentarily stunned by the brilliance of her smile. With his defenses unexpectedly down, it didn’t take much for the memories of this morning to come rushing to the fore, pushing all thoughts of bumper stickers and campaign slogans back to the far recesses of his mind. 

He desperately wanted that smile to be only for him. He wanted to tell every last one of these people, the Congressman included, to get the hell out so that he could be alone with her again. He wanted to pull her to him and kiss her, uninterrupted and uninhibited, for as long as he liked.

And he’d like it to be for quite a while. He wanted to take his time, learn the feel of her lips working in counterpoint against his, the taste of her skin at the curve of her jaw, the sound she'd make when he—

“Josh? Hey Josh, you with us?” His head snapped around painfully to meet the Congressman’s curious, bemused gaze.

“Yeah,” he replied, sounding wholly unconvincing to even his own ears. “Yeah. So how quickly can we have the new stuff out to the regional offices?”

* * * *

Leaning back into her chair Donna took a long sip of wine, hoping the alcohol would help to soothe her frayed nerves. Or maybe help her figure out what it was she should do. In vino, veritas, right? Reaching back she pulled the envelope, key still fit snugly inside, from her bag, turning it over several times in her hands, unconsciously mimicking the unproductive efforts of her mind. Okay, maybe not.

She could sense his arrival before Edie had even called out to him; it was one of the few useful skills she still carried with her from her days at the White House. Turning slightly, she watched him as he strode into view, casting an offhanded pun that was clearly meant to deflect in response to Bram’s pointed question. Something important was happening in Kazakhstan, something the President saw fit to speak about directly with both his potential successors and that Josh didn’t want to talk about with his subordinates. Great, yet another noteworthy concern to add to the day’s already lengthy list. 

Despite her concern, she picked up Josh’s conversational thread with practiced ease, tossing out a good-natured jibe and giving Josh the out he’d been angling for, just as she had on countless occasions in the past. And with that the question was forgotten by the others in favor of sillier, more light-hearted fare. 

But as her eyes followed Josh’s progress around their table and watched him slump into the only remaining chair, all thoughts of international conflict fled in favor of the more compelling matter now sitting literally before her. 

She couldn’t seem to stop staring at him, yet it felt like hours before he even noticed she was there, finally swinging his eyes to meet hers with a coy smile. 

It was that smile that finally sent her frustration past the boiling point, making the decision for her. This ended tonight; one way or another, she was going to get an answer out of him. 

Despite her resolve, Donna found herself unable to look at him as she placed the envelope surreptitiously on the table and slid it towards him. She could just see him out of the corner of her eye, sitting stock-still and watching the envelope’s steady progress across the table intently. Good. She obviously now had his attention.

Emboldened by his apparent disarray, she turned to face him again. Disbelief, shock, desire—she could seem them vividly painted in the lines and planes of his face as his eyes darted from the key between them to meet her eyes questioningly. She returned his gaze only briefly before rising on surprisingly steady legs and taking a final, deep sip of wine. “I’m turning in,” she tossed out in what she hoped was a convincingly casual voice before starting on her way through the tangle of tables towards the hotel lobby.

Be casual. Act nonchalant. And whatever the hell you do, don't look back. A strategy made all the more difficult when she was stopped halfway through the bar by a well-wishing senior Congressional aide. She had to force herself not to tap her foot impatiently as she accepted the man’s congratulations with a plastic smile and continued on her way.

It must have been the anxiety ringing in her ears that kept her from hearing Edie’s calls until she’d stepped through the lobby doors. Whatever Edie said was immediately lost as the ringing rapidly escalated into a dull roar and she felt the small manila envelope she’d relinquished only minutes earlier being pressed back into her palm. 

* * * *

“That's impressive, really. Brings honor to the family,” Josh joked as he dropped into the table’s lone empty seat, thankful that at least for the moment the subject of tonight’s impromptu visit to the White House had been forgotten. Not that he was all that interested in the alternative; he frankly could care less about Bram’s latest escapade with the Santos groupies, or the female staff’s apparent obsession with Bono—except for Donna, of course. The only man he hoped she was obsessing about right now was himself, because he was certainly still consumed by thoughts of her. 

He offered a half-hearted chuckle in response to...whatever it was Edie just said before cautiously shifting his gaze to Donna. He was surprised to find her watching him intently, her expression unreadable. As their eyes locked he felt a frisson of electricity dance along the base of his spine, and couldn’t help wondering for the umpteenth time today whether she, too, was feeling this out of control. All day he’d been warring with his emotions, trying to keep them in check. He’d never before had a problem sublimating his feelings for Donna, but kissing her this morning had irreversibly changed that. Not only was he suddenly unable to control those long-repressed emotions, he found that he didn’t want to. He wanted her, wanted to be with her. It was as simple as that. Only not really. 

For just a moment he thought he saw something, a trace of some unnamable emotion breaking through her practiced composure. Then suddenly she blinked and looked away, breaking their tenuous connection and leaving him adrift in a sea of desire and confusion.

Until he saw her lean in, drop a small manila envelope on the table, and slowly slide it towards him. He didn’t recognize it right away, but once he did, he felt his breath catch painfully in his chest. His eyes shot up to find that she was again watching him, her expression impassive. He felt his heart begin to race under her scrutiny as the realization finally hit him full on: Donna had just slipped him her room key.

There were very few conclusions one could make about such an action, and as inept at this as he may be, Josh was fairly certain he’d read this one correctly. She’d just invited him to her room, and not to discuss the Congressman’s scheduled media appearances for tomorrow morning.

She wanted him. Donnatella Moss wanted him. 

From the moment she’d laid herself bare by placing that key on the table he’d been overwhelmed by a tumultuous burst of emotions he could not adequately describe; dumbfounded would be an understatement, turned on too trite, joyous not emphatic enough, conflicted too frank. Whatever it was he was feeling, it had brought all higher brain function to an absolute standstill; all he could do was watch her rise from her chair, say her goodbyes to the others, then begin to make her way across the room. 

Finally, as he watched her stop to accept the congratulations of an overstuffed Congressional aide, it occurred to him that he should probably do something. His eyes longingly traced the soft fall of her hair across her shoulders, the familiar curves of her body, and in an instant the decision was made. No more excuses and no more waiting, duty and decorum be—Damn it! 

Ronna’s untimely exclamation snapped his attention back into focus, but not before she’d pulled the key from the table and out of his reach. His heart began to pound unpleasantly in his chest as he watched his opportunity being passed innocently from Ronna to Edie. “I—I got it. It’s...no problem. I—” He couldn’t get the words out, couldn’t find voice enough to stop the disaster that was unfolding right in front of his eyes. And then Edie was gone, jogging through the bar while calling for Donna and waving the key aloft like a banner. 

He wanted so badly to get up and chase after her; he could easily catch her before Donna had even noticed the commotion, wrench the key from her well-meaning fingers, then tell her to go back and get another drink on him. But instead the old, deeply instilled fears took over, drowning his desire in a cold wash of doubt and rooting him to the spot. 

With a heavy heart, he watched the clichéd scene play out before him: Edie pressing the key into Donna’s palm, Donna’s brow furrowing infinitesimally before she turned to look back at him, the obvious question shining in her eyes.

He wished she were closer, so that he could at least try to explain in words; instead he tried his best to show her. Silently he cursed himself for being so completely ill-prepared for this; he wanted to convey so many things to her in that one look, but as she continued to stare at him impassively he began to suspect that he was failing miserably. 

But then her expression changed—a nearly imperceptible shift in the curve of her lips, a slight brightening of her eyes—and somehow he knew she could understand him, that they were—for the first time in recent memory—in synch.

He reveled in the sheer intimacy of the moment, savored the heady feelings now coursing through his veins, even as she turned to follow Edie out of sight towards the elevators and her room. It had taken the better part of day, but she had finally given him her response to the question he’d dropped upon her lips this morning. The only question remaining unanswered between them was when. The answer to which is going to be tonight, if I have anyth— 

His phone. Again. Looking at the display, he groaned inwardly at the realization that this was the one person, save the President himself, whose call he absolutely could not ignore. “Good evening, Congressman....Uh, sure. Of course, sir. I can be there in...ten minutes.” Drawing in a deep breath, he tried to regain control of his emotions as he slipped the phone back into his coat pocket. 

“No rest for the weary, huh?” 

Josh’s eyebrows jumped in surprise at the sound of Bram’s sympathetic voice; as hard as it was to believe, he’d truly forgotten that the rest of them were even here. He’d been happily pre-occupied with...well, other, more important things. Yet Bram’s innocent question brought the full brunt of reality crashing down on Josh, bringing his euphoria to a sudden, tragic end. “Not for the next three weeks, no,” he replied glumly as he hoisted himself to a standing position. 

Stepping into the empty elevator a minute later, he looked wistfully at the darkened button for the third floor—her floor—for a long moment before sending the car to the fifth where the Congressman was waiting for him. He needed to get back to work. The rest would have to wait.

 

*fin.*


End file.
